


Chatoyant

by StrykingShadows



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: And angst, BFF MariChat first, But a lot of fluff, F/M, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Marichat May, Marichat May 2016, Stupid plot, Then, Yes it's still not done shuddap pls, angst just happens to be a central plot point, but then, how do I title, idk im also super late to the party, related drabbles forming a story
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-09
Updated: 2017-06-16
Packaged: 2018-06-07 07:40:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6795190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StrykingShadows/pseuds/StrykingShadows
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Chatoyant- Like a cat's eye"</p><p>Chat Noir isn't exactly sure when Marinette Dupain-Cheng became his best friend. But an amazing one she is, so he'll roll with it. And as his princess deserves to be happy with her prince, Chat is determined to help her work up the courage to confess to the idiot that has stolen her heart without noticing. Too bad he's that idiot. He, who's already pledged his heart to another.</p><p>For MariChat May (please forgive me for being so super late)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Cat Tendencies

**Author's Note:**

> I'm so late to this, but better late than never, right? Sorry. Enjoy.

“Princess!”

Chat beams as he lands lightly on the banister surrounding Marinette Dupain-Cheng’s balcony. The princess in question simply raises an eyebrow, matching his expression with a soft smile of her own. She reclines into the lawn chair she’s had on her balcony for ages, resting her elbow on her small, wooden, patio table beside a steaming plate of chocolate chip cookies. Chat’s gaze lights up as it locks ravenously on the cookies.

Marinette’s giggle jerks his attention back to her. “Is the kitty hungry?”

Chat strands straight before stepping off the railing, practically prancing over to Marinette’s side. “Princess, mew, without a doubt, are my favorite civilian.”

Marinette raises an eyebrow as Chat fakes a yawn and stretches, settling his arm around her shoulders to slyly snatch up a cookie.

“Nope.”

Chat hisses in surprise when Marinette smacks his hand, forcing him to drop the cookie back to the plate. The bested hero pulls away, turning a wounded, betrayed look to the giggling girl. Marinette smugly bites into a cookie, setting it down immediately on a napkin to cross her arms and playfully turn up her nose. Chat pouts.

“Mari, whyyyy?” He’s not ashamed to admit that he whines. He will whine his way into Dupain-Cheng cookies any day. Marinette only glares playfully at him over the bridge of her nose.

“I’m your ‘favorite’ civilian, Chat?” Her lips twitch. “I thought I was your one and only civilian.”

She allows her gaze to soften into heartbrokenness, and even if Chat knows it’s fake, he only wants to scoop her up into his arms and sooth the expression away. Then she places the back of her hand dramatically against her head, reclining in the chair, and the feeling fades. “I thought I was the only civilian in your life, Chat Noir!”

“Which would pawtomatically make you my favorite!” Chat chuckles, reaching for a cookie once more. He beams when Marinette simply laughs and sits up, allowing him to scoop it up in his claws. Chat nudges her leg with his knee, biting into heaven in cookie form. “Mnow scoot ovmer, mmrincess, ‘nd sh’re your throme.”

“Noooo.” Marinette groans, holding fast to her seat. “You’re not my prince, so you get to stand! And don’t talk with your mouth full!”

“Ah, mmyes.” Chat swallows. “The infamous Prince Charming.”

Chat bites once more into his cookie, clutching it between his lips as he bends down to pull a halfheartedly protesting Marinette from her seat, plops his own butt in the vacated spot, and settles the girl in his lap. Wrapping an arm around her waist to help balance her, he pulls the cookie from his mouth with his free hand. “How are your endeavors with him going, by the way?”

“Same as usual.” Marinette flies into a series of over-exaggerated, awkward faces as she snatches up her own cookie. “ _Oh, agh, ack_ is the basis of our conversation. Not that he doesn’t try, I’m just… bleh.”

She bites savagely into her cookie, accidentally leaving a smear of chocolate on her face. Chat’s gaze zeroes on the spot. He twitches, but frowns at Marinette’s distress. “Come on, Purrincess, you’re so sassy and snarky and… some other word beginning with s for alliteration purposes… Sarcastic!” Chat grins, staring off to avoid seeing that stupid chocolate smear. “Sassy, snarky, and sarcastic. Surely you can work up the courage to speak to your prince? The Princess deserves to have her happily ever after.”

Marinette sighs, leaning back against Chat’s shoulder (and bringing that chocolate smudge dirtying his Princess’s face closer to him. Chat tenses). “I really wish I could, Chat, what if he figures it out?”

He’s hardly listening, though not for lack of trying. It’s just… that _smudge_. Marinette’s face is dirty and needs to be clean. His Princess is under his protection and anything under his protection the way she is must be _clean_. He clears his throat. “Well, Mari, anyone would be a fool not to return your affections.”

“Marinette fiddles with her cookie before turning her wide blue eyes on him, tilting her head up to look at him- and giving him that much a better view of that _stupid smudge_. “Do… Do you really think so, Chat?”

It moves along with the cheek as she speaks, smearing as it brushes against more skin.

_It has to go._

In an instant, he drops his cookie so his hand can flash up to gently cradle her cheek, steadying her head. The girl freezes under his touch. “Chat?"

“Sorry, Princess,” he breathes, eyes locked onto the chocolate. “But let me just… you've got a… I can’t- It’s gotta go.”

“What’s gotta goo _aaaaagh!_ ” Marinette shrieks, jerking away from Chat as he drags his tongue over the stupid _stupid_ **_stupid_** **_smudge_**. Chat growls, tightening his grip on Marinette’s waist as she struggles to get away. Marinette manages to scramble away, dragging her hand down her cheek to wipe away the trail of saliva. “Did you just _lick me?!”_

Chat whines, reaching out for her. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, it was just- I just- it was _there_ , Marinette, I _had_ to clea-"

He freezes.

Sure, the giant splotch is gone, but in its place is a faint chocolate streak against her skin. He growls. Marinette takes a step back at the look on the hero’s face.

“Chat…”

He grins, playfulness leaking into his expression. Marinette’s gaze narrows. She takes another step back. Chat’s muscles coil as he prepares to pounce.  “ _Paw_ se  for a minute, Princess.”

“Chat. Don’t you dare.”

He lunges.

“Chat, _no!”_ Marinette shrieks as Chat snags the fleeing girl by her waist, pinning her to the banister so he can drag his tongue over her face. She splutters. “I thought only _mother_ cats did this! To her kittens!”

“I thought so too,” he mutters, more focused on cleaning his Princess. Marinette squirms a moment longer before sighing and relaxing as best she can.

“This is what I get for letting a cat hero in a leather suit befriend me.”

“Yep. Now hold still, I found another spot.”


	2. In Denial

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Panic attacks are no fun, especially when they're usually saved for the other persona.

“Hey, Chat?”

His ears flick at the sound of his name. Chat peeks an eye open, forcing his usual easy smile to his face. Reaching down to pop the lever on the side of the pink lawn chair to straighten it, he sits up with the chair. Marinette stares solemnly at him, a mug of hot chocolate cradled in her hands. She eases down on the stretch of fabric beside him, passing the mug to Chat. He takes it quietly, allowing the warmth to leak through the thick leather of his gloves.

“Yes, princess?” He leans his head against her shoulder, rumbling softly as her fingers card through his blond hair.

“Are you alright?”

Chat hums, lowering his gaze to his mug even if she can’t see it to begin with. Is he? It’s a good question. Personally, if he honestly thinks about it, Chat’s probably been ‘not alright’ long enough for him to differentiate it from ‘alright’, so it doesn’t really matter to him. ‘Not alright’ is ‘alright’. But even if he isn’t, this is Marinette. He shouldn’t burden his Princess with his mundane problems. Not to mention as a superhero, he shouldn’t even _have_ mundane issues to deal with. Separate the lives of Chat Noir and Adrien Agreste. (He can’t help but be warmed by Marinette’s concern. She cares so much about both sides of him and it’s an _amazing_ feeling. He just wishes she could talk to Adrien like she does Chat, but he knows she cares nonetheless.)

“Chat?”

Right. An answer for his concerned Princess. He needs one of those.

_Are you alright?_

Plagg would say no. His father has recently increased the amount of photoshoots locked into his schedule, packing them in to every second of the day to prepare for the upcoming fashion season. The amount and intensity of Hawk Moth’s akuma has grown at an alarmingly rapid pace. His fencing tournaments and piano concerts have had to been crammed in between his photoshoots (but never cancelled). To top it all off, midterms are hitting the next week, leaving packets and packets of reviews to be completed.

He's exhausted from it all, and he knows how evident it is. Ladybug claims to have cancelled patrol, but he’s seen her swinging about in the late hours of night. Even then, he can’t dredge up the energy to hop out and join her (he knows she’s tired too. She must have business in her own life to tend to, midterms and homework packets of her own to complete). Every muscle in his body screams for rest, his mind too tired even for that. He’s barely been able to find the time or energy to visit his princess, and that’s only because she allows him to curl up in her lap and snooze.

“Chat.”

His gaze snaps to vivid, concerned blue. Marinette stares up at him, brow furrowed in worry. He knows that look. Ladybug had had the same expression when she had “cancelled” patrol.

“S-sorry, Purrincess.” Chat aims a megawatt grin at Marinette. “Nah, I’m fine. Purrfectly pawsome.”

Her gaze narrows on his, making the hero feel as if this little civilian of his can see right through him and his feeble lies. Yet he holds firm in his grin, years of modeling having taught him how to smile through anything, including his own slowly shattering psyche.

…

_Oh._ Oh. No. No. He’s fine. Perfectly fine.

Her eyes are sad as she searches Chat’s gaze. He swallows, feeling his defenses slowly crumble beneath the shattering force of her worry the longer she searches for whatever it is she’s looking for. Chat inhales steady through his nose, faintly noting the pounding of his heart. It beats a steady rhythm of _I’m-fine, I’m-fine, I’m-fine, I’m fine._

“I’m fine,” he repeats, although his grin has slipped and his gaze has lowered. Marinette’s hand gently lays on his sticky cheek. Sticky? Why is his cheek sticky?

Marinette gently presses her forehead to his. “Then why, Chat, are you crying?”

_I’m-fine I’m-fine I’m-fine_

“I’m fine!”

Chat gasps loudly as something seems to wrap around his chest and _squeezes_ , robbing him of his breath and choking up his heart _._ Warmth spreads down his leg and he briefly glances down. Oh. He must have… dropped his chocolate… It… must have splashed against him when it fell. His shaking hands fly to the leather on his chest, scratching aimlessly to pull away whatever it is binding his lungs tight but of course there isn’t anything to shred apart so _why can’t he breathe?!_

“Pr-prince-, Mari-” He gasps and turns sharply towards Marinette, throwing himself into her ready, unwavering comfort. She wobbles a bit on the edge of the chair, but instantly wraps her arms around Chat’s neck as he pulls her into his lap. He presses his face to her shoulder, cringing internally as hot tears soak the sleeve of her night shirt. “S-s-sorry, Pr-Prin…”

“Shh, minou, shh…” Gentle fingers card through his hair. “It’s okay. You’re okay. But it’s also okay if you’re not okay.”

The nervousness in her voice is almost tangible as she holds him, but her grip never wavers nor do her fingers falter through his hair. The invisible constriction around his chest loosens slightly. Chat breathes deep as the binding allows, seeming to stretch it out like a rubber band as his chest expands. The hero struggles to slip back into the euphoria that tags along with being _the Chat Noir_. No worries. Just freedom. He’s fine.

“I-I’m f-fine, Marinette… P-Purromise.”

But when he looks down at her with his grin plastered on his tear streaked face and a quip about trying out for the school play on the tip of his tongue, Chat takes one look at her somber eyes and falters once more.

_I know you’re not,_ she seems to say, pulling him close. _But I’m willing to hold you until you are._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oops i angsted
> 
> (My tumblr: [shadowstryker](http://shadowstryker.tumblr.com/)


	3. Injured

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's hard to keep two lives separate when they try so hard to intersect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who snuck this Adrinette into my Marichat?
> 
> Also, I'm super late! Yay! (Blame graduation. Which I do tomorrow. Everything has been hectic lately, but I'm almost done!)

Sometimes, Adrien forgets himself. He forgets what belongs in Adrien’s world, and what belongs in Chat’s.

Laughing politely at a lame joke: _Adrien’s_.

Telling the lame joke: _Chat’s_.

Standing for hours on end, tilting his head just so: _Adrien’s_.

Flying through the Parisian night sky: _Chat’s_.

Visiting a pretty classmate under the guise of Paris’s hero: _not_ Adrien’s.

Saying hello to the same classmate in the morning: that’s not his either.

He forgets all of this as he looks up, grinning lopsidedly as Marinette, with her constant pink cheeks that mysteriously arise when he’s a civilian, passes his desk, stepping up onto the platform leading to her own seat. Adrien- not Chat, the hero who managed to worm his way into a really close friendship with Marinette, but Adrien, who’s barely been allowed to exist in the girl’s presence without causing a scene- raises a hand in greeting. “ _Salut,_ Marinette!”

“A-adrien! M-m-morning goo- ack!” Marinette’s pigtails whack the girl in the face as her head snaps around, wide, startled, deep-sea gaze locking on Adrien’s. Her foot, half raised to step up to the next platform, barely toes the edge, catching just enough pressure to send the rest of her weight flying out from beneath her. With a yelp, Marinette tumbles forward, eyes squeezing closed as she braces herself for-

_Klok_.

_Thud._

_-_ hitting her head solidly against the corner of her desk. She cries out as she hits the ground, curling in to a tight ball of pain.

Adrien winces, instantly darting out of his chair and over to his Marinette’s side, only remembering at the last minute the he _cannot_ pull his princess into his lap and fret over her because that is a Chat Noir thing and Adrien is nowhere near that kind of level of casual comfort with Marinette. He settles for a worried hand on the girl’s shoulder. “…Marinette?”

She groans softly, blinking dazedly up at the fluorescent lights as she rolls onto her back. Her gaze focuses on the lights, squinting. Adrien raises a hand to shield her eyes from the glare of the lighting.

“Marinette?” Her gaze flickers to his, widening briefly in recognition before relaxing again. A smear of red catches his eye. Swallowing nervously, Adrien gently brushes aside Marinette’s bangs (ignoring her embarrassed squeak). His heart drops to his stomach when he reveals a gash on the side of her head, left from, presumably, where she hit it against the table. “Oh, _shit_ , Marinette, I’m sorry!”

She giggles a little, face flushed red as she tries to sit up. Adrien looks at her curiously, still hovering over her. “I’ve never heard you curse before, Adrien.”

His shoulders lose some of their tension. Surely she’s alright if she can comment on that… “I’ve never caused one of my really close friends to split their head before.”

The way her eyes light up at his comment makes Adrien grin loosely for a second. “I’m one of your really close friends? Really?”

Right. He’s Adrien. Not Chat. She’s _Chat’s_ “really close friend”, but… screw it.

“Of course you are.” Adrien wraps one arm around her shoulders to support her as he gently pulls Marinette to her feet. She leans heavily into his side for a moment, eyes dipping shut for a split second. A small, tired hum slips past her lips. “…Marinette?”

The girl jolts, almost tearing herself out of Adrien’s grasp in her effort to put some distance between them. Adrien sighs internally, watching her sadly.

_What makes her so much more comfortable around Chat Noir?_

He shrugs it off, turning to Mme. Bustier and requesting to take Marinette to the nurse. Mme. Bustier nods, sending the two to get Marinette’s cut cleaned and looked at. Adrien hesitantly offers his hand to Marinette, his heart fluttering in elation when she accepts the hand in her own with a fierce blush. _Maybe she doesn’t dislike me as much as I thought?_

Still. He can’t hover near as much as he wants to when Marinette’s steps drag on the way to the nurse’s office. Hovering over his princess isn’t for his tight, constrained world.

He’ll escape to the other to worry over her tonight.

* * *

“Marinette!” Chat rushes to her side as the designer pokes her head out of the trapdoor, a bright white bandage peeking out from beneath the raven locks of her bangs. Her brow furrows in confusion as she climbs out. Marinette squeaks as Chat envelops her in a tight hug

“Ch-Chat Noir? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, not with me, but what about you _you’re hurt.”_

“Ch-Chat, it’s okay! I’m okay! I was just surprised and slipped!”

Chat pulls away to inspect her head, claws gently pulling her bangs from the bandage. Marinette’s gaze tracks his as he runs his thumb gently over the gauze. “You hurt your head… you could have a concussion! Do you have a concussion?”

“I do not have a concussion. I am fine.”

“How many fingers am I holding up?” He sticks up a hand with his thumb tucked in. Marinette rolls her eyes.

“Four.”

“Are you sure? Your eyes look unfocused.”

_“Chat Noir, I am perfectly fine.”_

“…okay, that sounds fake, but okay.”

“If you’re going to meme at me you can just get off my balcony right now.”

Chat grins sheepishly, unable to help pressing his lips to the bandage. "Sorry, princess."

Marinette squeaks, cheeks visibly flushed even in the darkness of the night.

His smile widens. The one thing allowed to belong to both Adrien and Chat Noir: Marinette's absolutely _adorable_ blush.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Concrit is appreciated! Seems like I end most of these with dialogue...
> 
> Hit me up at my [tumblr](http://shadowstryker.tumblr.com/)


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chloe's at it again. Chat has something to say about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...wow, has, what, has it truly been a year since I. Pfft. I... don't have a horrible sense of motivation, I don't know what you're on about. Ha. Haha... Marichat May 2016 in 2017 is the in thing. I promise.
> 
> In all honesty, I'm so sorry for this chapter. I got stuck on it, and put it away to meditate over it, but nothing seemed right. I'm still horribly dissatisfied with it, but you guys deserve a updates to this. Eventually I churned this out just to get it out of the way so I can move on. I am so sorry for the quality of this chapter and hope you guys stick with me despite this blurb I spit out. I've set goals, so hopefully I can have some semblance of a schedule. I'm so sorry guys.
> 
> EDIT: Accidentally uploaded the wrong one. Apologies to my subscribers for the double email.

Sometimes Chat Noir strolls casually through Paris in order to shake hands and take selfies with civilians. There are a few faces that he’s learned the names of, as he tends to frequent the same places.  A certain food vendor, Notre Dame, or, his favorite, the park across from a certain Patisserie.

Though maybe that’s because of the girl he can often find in this park, with her tongue poking out between her lips and her sketchbook propped up between the dip of her crossed legs. Chat usually plops down beside her and sets his chin on Marinette’s shoulder, eagerly watching the girl’s mental vision spring to life on the page. She’ll often simply push his head away and carry on, but if she’s in a really good mood or deep into “designer mode”, she’ll let him stay in place. He used to be able to embarrass her more easily out in public, since people would stop and stare and take pictures of Chat Noir chilling with a random civilian, but Paris has grown accustomed to attaching the face of the baker’s daughter to that of the superhero. (The paparazzi had required a more… personal visit to deter them, but all worked out in the end).

As he leaps off one of the buildings near the park, a grin takes over his face at the thought of this being a good day. Earlier at school, Marinette had seemed ecstatic about the newest Agreste competition, even if she was only able to babble in Adrien’s general direction about it (and goddamn if it wasn’t the most adorable thing he’d seen all day). Chat has no doubt that he can find his princess in her spot on the fountain, scrawling away in her sketchbook with a grin on her face.

Chat ambles his way into the park, pausing to greet a few wowed children. He braces his arms around one child as her mother asks for a picture, throwing up a couple of finger guns. Snickering as the girl copies his pose, his ears swivel back as shrill, familiar laugher draws his attention. He quickly forces his ears back to the front as the mother takes the picture, standing almost immediately. The child giggles as Chat turns to the side to ruffle her hair, eyes scanning over her head for the source of the laughter and the sinking feeling in his gut.

Sure enough, the hero catches sight of two girls exiting the park, a blond with her head tossed back in laughter and a redhead who gazes up at her adoringly, a smirk curling her lips. Chat’s blood turns to ice in his veins as he watches Chloé and Sabrina stroll off, giggling. Dread curls warningly in his chest as he turns his attention to the park, wishing desperately he could see the fountain- and Marinette.

It’s common knowledge that Chloé and Marinette compete for the top spot with their designs, though the brunette came out on top more often than not. Chloé actually has a great sense of fashion and originality when she doesn’t compare herself to others (specifically Marinette), he’d seen it as Adrien before. But the blonde had never hand sewn anything a day in her life, whereas Marinette hand stitched almost everything she made. Chat’s princess simply has more experience doing what she does, so she makes the cut (whether it be a contest, a grade, or simply a present) in a fair judgement more often than Chloé.

And if Adrien knows anything, it’s that Chloé loathes it.

“Chat Noir?” He flinches lightly in surprise, gaze snapping to the mother who had taken the picture. She smiles softly. “You look like you have somewhere you need to be.”

Chat chuckles sheepishly, a clawed hand scratching the back of his neck even as he backs away. “You’re right… I’m sorry to bail so hastily, but-“

“Go on,” the mother laughs softly, shooing lightly with one hand as the other wraps securely around her little girl’s upper arm. “I know your ‘princess’ enjoys that park.”

“That she does…” Chat grins and excuses himself properly, turning tail and pulling out his baton to leap over the park gates (his grin widens as he hears the child scream in delight at the show). He lands lightly, stowing away his baton and rushing to the fountain. Chat skids to a stop, eyes widening when he sees Marinette pulling herself out of the water, face red and blotchy with either tears or fury (or both, knowing his princess). She clutches a soggy, drenched sketchbook to her chest with one arm.

_Oh no. She didn’t. Not even Chloe would go that far._

“Marinette!” The hero rushes over to her, tail lashing back and forth anxiously as he pulls the trembling girl from the water. She quivers in his arms, immediately burying her face in the inside of his arm. Chat presses his cheek to her hair, pulling her closer despite the water cooling unpleasantly against the unguarded skin of his face in the spring air. “Mari, princess, what happened?”

The designer whimpers lightly, turning to forlornly lift the design book. “M-my sketchbook… she ruined my sketch-sketchbook… S-so ma-many desi-” She plants her face in his chest to muffle a sob, causing Chat to tighten his arms around her. The crowd around them- the general afterschool park visitors- slowly disperses, the moment turning too personal for most to feel comfortable watching.

Chat Noir coos softly into Marinette’s hair, gently scooping her up into a princess hold. She shifts automatically to cling tightly to Chat, tightly enough that he can comfortably hold her with one arm and pull out his baton with the other. He wordlessly springs off, cradling his precious cargo. Marinette rests her head against his shoulder, sniffles dying off as she allows herself to relax in Chat’s hold. The hero quickly takes his princess back to her house, carrying her directly up to her room.

After Marinette changes clothes (she’s feeling well enough to baster lightly with Chat as she reminds him to stay on the balcony while she gets into dry pajamas), Chat spends the rest of the day with her, allowing her to rant about Chloe and Sabrina and mourn the loss of her best designs while curled into his chest. When she finally falls asleep, Chat gently tucks her into bed and leaps out the window, heading directly to _Le Grand Paris_ with fury in his eyes.

As he makes his way up to Chloe’s bedroom, Chat mentally tries to puzzle out how to go about this. He doesn’t want to scare her- not just because he’s supposed to be a hero of Paris, but also because Chloe is Adrien’s oldest friend. He has to take things calmly, even as Chat Noir, especially as enraged on Marinette’s behalf as he is. Maybe he should try as Adrien first…

No. Chloe habitually shrugs off Adrien when he tries to calm or even question her, flippantly claiming that so-and-so deserved what they had coming. So Adrien broaching the topic is out of the question. And while Chloe may not particularly care for Chat Noir as a singular entity, Chat has one thing up on his civilian self that is sure to convince Chloe to skip over at least Marinette in her warpath.

Connections to Ladybug, the one person Chloe adores almost as much as herself.

Chat touches down lightly on Chloe’s extravagant balcony, tucking his baton away at the small of his back. His ears swivel on top of his head as his sensitive hearing picks up on the conversation inside.

“Did you _see her face?_ It was hilarious! That was the best idea I’ve ever had. And the best part is she has to start all over with her designs. All of them! Honestly, I’m a genius.”

 _“But, Chloe, what if she tells someone? There’s already pictures of Chat Noir comforting her, and people_ saw _what you- I mean, I- did. The media’s kind of already jumping on it.”_

“So what? Daddy’s team should already be keeping it under wraps. It’s just some lowly girl that _a few_ people like because of Chat Noir. No one will care, and _you_ were the one that pushed her.”

_“…you’re right, Chloe, I shouldn’t doubt you.”_

 Scowling, he reaches up to rap his knuckles against the fragile glass of Chloe’s balcony door. The conversation pauses, then resumes as Chloe pads over to the door.

“I could have sworn I heard… Ohmygod, Sabrina, I’ll have to talk to you later.”

Chloe hangs up without and further preamble and tosses her phone onto her couch as she swings open her balcony door. She leans against the side of the door with her arms crossed. She blows a bubble and pops it. “What do you want, cat?”

Chat can’t help but bristle at the way she addresses him. “I think you know what I want.”

A perfectly plucked eyebrow raises incredulously. “Enlighten me.”

“An apology.” Chat strides forward, shoulders straightened back to intimidate her just a little more. “To Marinette. You’ve ruined so much of her work for no reason. You could have akumatized her.” His eyes narrow. “I do _not_ want to fight my princess because of you.”

At all, really, but if he has to fight Marinette because of his oldest friend…

Chloe only laughs. “Me? Apologize to _her?_ Why should I?”

“Because Ladybug would be disappointed in you.” Chat’s lip curls. “You want to prove you’re good enough to be My Lady’s friend? Then stop bullying people, _especially_ Marinette. They’re friends too, you should know.”

Chloe gasps. “Marinette? Friends with _Ladybug?”_

 _“Yes.”_ Chat sighs and softens his voice. “Not only would Ladybug appreciate it if you apologized, Chloe, I dare say she might even be proud.”

The blonde regards Chat Noir with a cool look, eyes calculating his sincerity. She scoffs and straightens, turning back into her room. “Whatever. I’ll think on it.”

Chat grins and extends his baton to leap away. “That’s all I ask.”

_I’m proud of you too, Chloe._


End file.
